Snowdrops
by callie rawston
Summary: Sam/Dylan multi-parter. When Dylan leaves Holby for a weekend conference in London with Zoe, Sam is left with time to assess what is left of her broken marriage.
1. Chapter 1

**Before I start I would like to thank everyone who reviewed "War is never easy", your comments meant a great deal. "Snowdrops" is my new fanfiction multi-part piece, based on the Sam and Dylan relationship. I am aiming to update daily, as this seemed to work out quite well last week. **

**I hope you enjoy. Here is part 1 of 7.**

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter One**

Today was the third time since she had arrived at Holby that she had considered asking for a change in her NHS placement and unsurprisingly to her all three of these occasions had been as a direct result of the very reason she had taken the placement in the first place. Holby City E.D. had gained a strong reputation for being capable of managing the large scale disasters which seemed to erupt in the locality on an almost clockwork basis, but if she had chosen her placement purely for career development reasons she would have selected a busier department in London, Manchester or somewhere similar.

Her army colleagues had considered her move to Holby as a signal that she wanted to step out of the fast lane for a while, which given that she could have died in an ambulance on her very first day and since then had been threatened, watched the E.D. burn down and got caught in a toxic gas cloud, amused her greatly. She knew that to the army medics currently serving placements in inner city London her new workplace in the West Country must seem deathly dull, but Holby had far exceeded her expectations since her arrival.

However it was on days like today that she wished she had followed her head not her heart and chosen to work somewhere else. Dylan had written to her in Afghanistan to notify her of his move to the Holby area, which had given her enough time to research local NHS placements prior to her return. Her decision had been between Holby City and St James' and on that basis the choice had been a simple one, due to the fact that she had read a number of papers by Nick Jordan and was excited at having the chance to work with him.

Until the day she had arrived to interview with Mr Jordan she'd had no idea that her husband actually worked in the E.D. she had selected. When she'd left England eight months beforehand he had still been working as a GP and whilst she was not surprised of his return to emergency medicine she had been shocked that he had made such a major change without once mentioning it in their postal and email communications.

When Mr Jordan had advised her of the team she would be working with, including one Dr Dylan Keogh, she had winced inwardly. They had always made an excellent medical team, working seamlessly together and she had learnt so much from studying alongside him the previous few years. Yet her intention had never been to gate-crash his workplace nor to be in his face every day and in that moment she regretted the impact she was about to have on his life. That first time she had considered moving placements was prior to her even commencing work but she had decided to stay, mainly because she couldn't face hurting him further by letting him believe she had run away from working with him once again.

The second time had been the day after the E.D. burnt to the ground. She hadn't even been on shift that day, but from the moment she was called in she had kept herself busy treating patients, desperately trying not to consider what could happen if Dylan didn't make it out alive. The team finding out she was Dr Keogh's wife had been by accident more than design, but inwardly she had been grateful that their secret was out. However when Dylan had dismissed her as a mere technicality before walking away, she wished she could just disappear. She would rather have been a secret wife and have a connection with him, that to be just a technical difficulty in his personal circumstances. With the department closed for a number of weeks for a rebuild and refit Sam had been given the option of moving her placement to another hospital, which she had given serious consideration for a few days. In the end though she had decided to stay, even if this was only to push Dylan into resolving the outstanding issues around their marital status.

Today was the third time she had considered moving to another hospital, which given how much better she was getting on with Dylan now was ironic. They had once again learned the skill of working alongside each other and when they were paired together in resus she knew they were a formidable team. Dylan's diagnostic skills and his knowledge of medical conditions she had barely heard of matched perfectly with her practical skills and no nonsense attitude. It was in those moments, when they were caught up in the intensity of a life or death situation, that Sam realised how lucky she was to still have the opportunity to be in his world, even if it was only on a professional basis.

She had to concede that it wasn't even Dylan who had irritated her today, although he was very much central to the thoughts whizzing round her mind. Her current problem actually revolved around Dr Zoe Hanna, who despite being friendly enough towards Sam seemed to be intent in pursuing her husband. Dylan had made it clear enough to Sam that there was no chance of reconciliation between them, but that didn't make it any easier for her to watch Zoe's continued flirtation with him. The fact that Dylan appeared to be oblivious to her efforts wasn't even providing any comfort, because despite his outward social ineptness she knew that eventually he would be enlightened. He already liked Zoe, which for him was quite a big step in itself, so it wasn't too much of a jump to get him to consider the possibility of there being a potential relationship available.

Sam's feeling of impending doom had only been worsened by Mr Jordan's announcement last week that he was unable to attend the emergency medicine conference in London with Zoe and therefore was sending Dr Keogh in his place. Sam had been surprised by the level of anger that had bubbled up inside her at the thought of them going together, especially because the conference was for two days and therefore necessitated a three night stay in an already booked swish hotel.

On her arrival at work this morning she had initially thought the day may not be as bad as she had anticipated when she had been given the option of choosing which area of the department she worked in. Naturally she had opted for resus, feeling it played to her strengths far more than cubicles or CDU ever had done, as she found patients who were unconscious or barely in the land of the living a lot easier to talk to. Unfortunately despite her getting the unexpected pleasure of choice she had then been saddled with spending the majority of the day with both Zoe and Dylan. She wasn't exactly sure why resus had required all three of them to be present but the closeness of the pair of senior doctors had begun to grate on her nerves almost immediately.

She had started to wonder if she was becoming paranoid or hyper-sensitive at anything relating to her husband, but throughout the shift it seemed that Zoe and Dylan seemed to be off in corners speaking to each other intently every time she looked up. She hated that Zoe had giggled at a lot of Dylan's comments and she'd hated the way Zoe appeared to stop talking every time she approached. The shift had fast become unbearable to the point where she had even offered to swap her resus stint with Lenny's one stuck in cubicles, although Mr Jordan had inexplicably refused to allow their trade. A small part of her even considered that he had noted how uncomfortable she was feeling and was acting as some kind of sadist.

When Dylan had been called away to deal with a case in CDU that required his clinical judgement Zoe started chattering inanely about the fancy meals and shopping opportunities she was looking forward to in London. Sam had been unable to shake the image of her husband and this woman driving down to London together that night in what she hoped would not become a romantic weekend away from her head and something inside her had snapped. She knew her tone had been quite curt and pointed in responding to her colleague when she had informed her that from her own previous experience of attending conferences with Dylan he would only be interested in attending the lectures and indulging himself in conversing with similar souls in an endless game of medical deduction and one-upmanship. When she thought back to some of the events they had been to together, she remembered they had spent most of their time in their hotel room curled up with him reading her extracts from medical journals that he thought may interest her.

She could only hope that Zoe and Dylan would never be in the same hotel room, because the thought of that was enough to make her both cry and scream in equal measure. Equally though her thoughts were dominated by the complexity of the situation they found themselves in. She knew that both her and her husband were considered socially awkward, but she did not understand how it was acceptable for Zoe to be bragging about nights out she was about to have with a colleague's husband. She could only assume that Zoe was either incapable of understanding the distress she was causing or that she was deliberately and publicly trying to stake her claim, but regardless of the reason it had only worsened Sam's mood.

She had escaped resus as soon as her shift was over but her mess of thoughts were still scurrying round inside her brain when she entered the staffroom to collect her belongings. A number of her colleagues were already present and were debating which of the many wine bars and pubs they frequented would be getting their custom that evening.

Whilst she was removing her coat and bag from her locker the door opened again and she knew it was Dylan who had entered without even turning around. His presence always seemed to have an impact on her, but today she would rather have managed to leave without making small talk with him about his trip with Zoe.

"I've been looking for you," he stated, causing her to reluctantly turn around. Without speaking again he stuck his hand out to offer her its contents, which appeared to be a set of keys.

"The dog," he remarked simply, as if this answered the look of confusion that she knew must have crossed her face at this bizarre statement, but she shook her head to indicate that she had no clue what he was talking about. "You need to look after the dog."

Sam felt as if she had been physically slapped. Her husband was going to spend a weekend in a hotel with a female colleague, a colleague who obviously had a soft spot for him, and she had just been demoted from wife to dog-sitter in a matter of words. She looked away for a few seconds to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall at the humiliation and indignation she was feeling before looking back to meet his gaze.

"Isn't there anyone else you can ask?" she queried petulantly, not wanting to make this conversation any easier for him than it was for her.

"No," he responded. "She is your dog too," he added. "Besides Dervla doesn't like change or strangers."

The temptation to shoot back at him with a sarcastic comment that Dervla must take after her master then was almost too great to resist, but instead she just shrugged.

"Ok, whatever," she said, removing the keys from his hand and trying to sound as non-committal as possible. She was about to ask him about the exact requirements of her newly acquired responsibility but Zoe appeared in the doorway to access her own locker and Sam was not prepared to continue the conversation with her in the room.

Instead she turned her attention to the colleagues behind her who were still babbling on mindlessly about a local bar, so rather than speak to Dylan she turned to join in their debate.

"I had a patient the other day who manages that new bar in town," she added in, gaining their attention. "Heaven, I think it was. Anyway, he said he'd let me have discounted drinks all night if I dropped in this week."

Her comments had the desired effect and she found herself enveloped in their murmurings about this potential location for a night of drinking and almost to spite a still watching Dylan she quickly agreed to join them. She was pleasantly surprised by their enthusiastic response to her coming out with them for the first time since her arrival months beforehand, but never before would she have considered socialising with work colleagues. The fact that neither her or Dylan were social animals had been a key reason their marriage had survived as long as it had, so she knew he would be thrown by her sudden interest in a night on the town.

As the rabble of ready to drink colleagues started to bundle out of the room in front of her, Dylan grabbed hold of her by the arm.

"Don't forget about Dervla," he said quietly, to which she instinctively rolled her eyes in response. However unexpected the request may have been she wasn't going to leave his beloved dog to starve, a fact he would already have known. As she shook off his grasp she caught sight of a concerned look in his eyes for a moment, but as Zoe was standing right behind him in the room she airbrushed that thought from her mind and continued past him.

"I'll see you on Monday," she heard him call out after her.

At that moment she was very grateful to Linda for appearing beside her, linking their arms and practically dragging her out of the department. The whole time she had been debating Dylan's upcoming absence with Zoe she had completely missed the relevance of one key fact. Today was Friday and Dylan would be absent for the entire weekend, returning on Monday. Even in the haze of emotions that was now threatening to overwhelm her she could calculate that this meant he would be absent from Holby this Sunday. It was the one day in the whole year that she needed to see him and he wasn't even going to be in same part of the country as her.

She really needed a drink.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading. Reviews are always much appreciated.<strong>

**Part two should be up tomorrow. Callie x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. I'm so grateful you have all taken the time to read and respond to Snowdrops and for the support you are all offering for me updating this every day. Extra special thanks to Anny, Meggi and Megan as always :)**

**Here is part 2 of 7. **

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter 2**

The woman staring back at Sam from the mirror in the ladies toilets appeared to be a lot drunker than she had anticipated her being earlier that evening. It had been a long time since she had been on a night out quite like this and whilst the bar may well have been called Heaven, Sam felt that hell was a far more accurate description of her current location.

As she reviewed her reflection the doctor inside her noted many classic signs of someone who'd had too much to drink. She was overheating and clammy, her eyes were unfocused and her normally immaculate hair had fallen messily over her face and shoulders. She saw patients like this every nightshift in the E.D. and usually they were the ones who ended up vomiting uncontrollably over the beds, floor and unfortunate medical professionals who happened to be in the vicinity.

She knew from that experience it was a bad sign that the room had started to spin somewhat and her brain felt like it was pounding against the inside of her skull, so she moved to sit down on the floor inside a cubicle hoping that the mixture of pain and dizziness would soon subside. She brought her knees up to her chest and gently placed her head down, closing her eyes in an effort to block out the world around her for long enough to sober up.

Unfortunately Sam's respite from the situation was only fleeting, as the moment her eyes shut the darkness was filled with a very vivid image of her husband, grumpy expression and all. A forceful urge to be physically sick suddenly overwhelmed her so she moved quickly to lift the toilet seat before she wretched into the bowl.

As her feeling of sickness diminished, she leant back against the partition wall of the cubicle and scrunched her eyes tightly shut. Sam had only ever felt this disgusted with herself once before and then, as now, it was over a broken promise to her former husband. She knew the weight of disappointment Dylan would feel if he could see her at this moment and for the first time she felt grateful he was not even in the locality of Holby that night. Even in her hazy thought processes Sam could recognise the irony in her now being thankful he was away with Zoe, but the thought of him seeing her in this drunken mess was more than she could bear.

She was incredibly angry at herself for having weakened to drink that much alcohol in the first place. Sam had never been a particularly sociable creature, preferring to think of herself more as a lone wolf than a member of the pack, but over the years she had grown used to the drinking culture that was prevalent amongst both medical students and her army comrades. Yet she had withdrawn from that lifestyle just as quickly as she had entered it and had never had the desire to return to it, well until tonight anyway.

She recalled that she had only agreed to join her colleagues in the bar because she knew it would irritate Dylan and remind him that she was fully capable of having a life without him, regardless of how untrue that may be. A small, perhaps selfish, part of her had hoped that her dismissive behaviour would play on his mind and keep his focus away from Zoe on their long drive to London. However at the same time she was comforted by the warm welcome her colleagues had extended to her in their invitation to join them and had willingly walked away from her ex-husband's grasp.

It had become apparent to her very early on in the evening that some of her colleagues, including Linda, Lenny and the paramedics, liked a drink more than she had expected and the vast quantities of spirits, beer and wine that had been consumed by their table within the first two hours had been eye opening to her. She had never been able to comprehend why qualified medical professionals would think it either safe or appropriate to drink so many units in one binge session, but had chosen not to query this out loud as she had inferred it was a fairly regular occurrence for the particular group she was with.

Sam had managed to resist the allure of alcoholic beverages for the first few rounds which she identified had caused raised eyebrows from a few of her harder drinking colleagues. However when she had overheard Lenny speculating about Zoe and Dylan sharing accommodation for the weekend, her reluctance to join the others in getting spectacularly drunk had been removed. She had known that her husband and Zoe would have arrived at their hotel by the point she downed her first bottle of beer and it was the thought of them alone together that had driven her to continue accepting drinks from her colleagues for some time afterwards.

Sam had soon discovered that one of the side effects of her high alcohol consumption was that she struggled to focus on conversations happening around her. She didn't know most of her colleagues well enough to have an interest in their personal circumstances, meaning she had found significant chunks of the discussion either uninteresting or inconsequential to her, although she had managed to glean that relationships and affairs between colleagues were commonplace in the department and had been furnished on Zoe and Nick's history. Yet the majority of people that had been analysed by the group had long since left Holby and therefore Sam had continued to drink mainly to prevent herself from outwardly showing boredom with the topic.

Her lack of engagement hadn't been helped by the fact that key members of the group sitting with her had accents that became stronger as their blood alcohol level increased, which she found especially true of Lenny and Linda. She had initially been grateful for their company, as their banter had been a distraction from her own thoughts, yet as the evening went on she had struggled to follow the trail of their animated discussion and couldn't quell her feelings of being the odd one out in this group of like-minded individuals. From the moment it must have become apparent to them that even a drunken Sam was not going to reveal the deepest, darkest secrets of her marriage, she had noted that Linda and Lenny's attention had turned away from her and onto each other. She usually paid little attention to other people's relationships but it had been easy for her to pick up on their flirtation with each other when sandwiched between them at the table. The fact that she had been unable to understand what either of them was saying had just added to her general wish to get away from it all.

She had excused herself to head towards the toilets, but as a haze descended around her she had all but fallen into Jeff's lap. He had helped steady her back upright and she had made her way to the ladies without further incident, albeit a little shaky on her own feet. It was on entering the toilets that she had made eye contact with her own reflection in the mirror and triggered the events that led to her now being seated on a cold, tiled floor in a scruffy looking bathroom.

With the thought of disappointing Dylan still weighing heavily on her mind she recalled the exact day she had last consumed any alcohol. Her husband's decision to cease drinking three years previously had caused her to rethink her own relationship with the demon drink. It hadn't been her with the problem but at the point when Dylan finally acknowledged his own issues with alcohol, she had recognised how similar their addictive tendencies were. She had made the decision to support her husband by joining him in alcohol abstinence with little conscious thought, yet that decision became a pledge to him that had come to mean as much to both of them as their wedding vows had done.

Sam had to make a determined effort in that moment to blink back her tears at the thought of a long line of broken promises she had clocked up since getting married. From her affair to drinking again to the anniversary this very weekend, she knew her behaviour had impacted on every aspect of his life. The only coherent thought that she could hold onto in her semi-drunken state was that if she had ever loved Dylan then she would need to allow him to move on. She mused that it would have been better for her sanity if him moving on was not involving Dr Hanna, as she was sure that woman was soon to become the bane of her existence. Yet Sam had to acknowledge that if it hurt her to watch Dylan grow comfortable in Zoe's company it was purely a self-inflicted pain on her part.

With that thought at the forefront of her mind Sam dragged herself up from the floor and headed towards the sink. She splashed her face with cold water in an attempt to shake the misty feeling behind her eyes, retied her hair back neatly and straightened herself up before heading back to her colleagues in the bar.

"I was about to come in and see if you needed rescuing Princess," Jeff stated jokingly as she returned and Sam realised that quite some time must have passed since she'd excused herself. In fact since her departure it appeared that Lenny and Linda's flirtation had moved forwards several steps, as the two of them were now locked together in a passionate embrace and Sam tried to keep the evident disdain she had for public displays of affection from her face as she attempted to return Jeff's smile.

On looking down and checking her watch Sam realised that it was almost 10:30pm and despite her assurances to Dylan she had forgotten her promise to take care of Dervla. The toxic mixture of the guilt she felt at abandoning their beloved dog to fend for itself and her alcohol intake added a sense of desperation to her already worsening mood so she forcefully pushed past the kissing couple she had been sitting with earlier to grab her coat and bag.

Her colleagues broke apart to look at her questioningly, to which she responded, "I have to look after Dylan's dog," before retreating away from them, recognising as she did so that her communication skills were no more developed than those her husband had demonstrated earlier in the day.

"Will you be alright getting home?" Jeff's voice carried after her causing her to turn round and find both him and Dixie watching her leave. Their shared experiences on her first day in the ambulance with them seemed to have encouraged them to develop a soft spot for her and their concern at that point over her welfare was more welcome to her than Sam would ever want to admit out loud.

"I'm in the army," she replied, trying to give the same jovial tone to her voice that Jeff had demonstrated just seconds before. "I could kill a man with my bare hands, so I think I'll be fine," she concluded before exiting the bar as quickly as she could.

The cold winter air hit Sam's face the moment she stepped outside and she had to breathe deeply to stop the awful ill feeling from resurfacing. She bundled her hands deeply into her pockets and started off in the direction of Dylan's home. The iciness in the air appeared to be having the effect of sobering her up slightly for which she was eternally grateful. The thought of facing Dylan's boat and that damned dopey dog this weekend of all weekends was stirring long buried feelings of sadness deep inside her but as this was likely to be her only opportunity to spend time in her husband's personal space ever again, she wanted to be able to savour and remember every single second.

The walk to the boat was longer than she remembered, but she noted that her judgement of distance and time may still be impinged by the diminishing levels of alcohol in her system. It was a route that was almost second nature to her, as she had based her regular running routine on travelling past Dylan's home on a daily basis. The timing of her run was dependant on their shared shift pattern, but whether it be an early morning sprint or a late night exercise burst she always slowed down as she reached his mooring in the vain hope of him seeing her running past and inviting her in.

Sam remembered that she had silently bid him good morning or good night every day since her arrival in town until the recent cold spell had made the path almost impassable to runners. She had known she would have had difficulty in convincing him that running past his boat was accidental at the best of times, but if she had broken her ankle in the icy conditions he would have questioned her stalker typed behaviour. Her husband did after all have a habit of stating the obvious.

Sam rounded the corner to where his familiar boat had been moored since before own arrival in Holby and stopped dead in her tracks. The boat that she had grown to know over the past few months was no longer present and instead had been replaced by a slightly more modern equivalent. In fact for a moment or two Sam was unsure if Dylan's own boat had been stolen, if he'd forgotten to mention a change of moorings or as she admitted to herself was more likely, that she had walked past his home on her drunken trek through the darkness.

However she soon identified that there were certain aspects of this boat that were familiar to her, despite her never having seen it before. The dog lead and boots that were lined up at the exit point of the boat, as if they were waiting for said dog and it's master to make use of them, were a dead giveaway that this vessel belonged to a certain Dr Dylan Keogh. She could only begin to wonder why he had felt the need to upgrade his boat given how little he liked change or why he hadn't mentioned it to her, either at the point of it occurring or when he'd arranged for her to take on Dervla for the weekend.

It was at times like this that Sam wondered whether she still knew her husband at all.

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><p><strong>Thank you once again for reading. Reviews, as always, are welcome.<br>Part 3 will be uploaded tomorrow. Callie x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - much appreciated as always. I seem to be writing quite a lot of angst ridden Sam in this fic, and I agree with ficmouse who mentioned that she is defining herself by how much she has lost. The reason for that will begin to become apparent soon, so please keep reading :)**

**(Oh and yes, Freya, drunken Sam may have been slightly based on my own experiences with alcohol! Lol).**

**Here is part 3 of 7. **

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter 3**

For the first time in over a year she had woken up feeling like Mrs Samantha Keogh, rather than plain old Sam Nicholls. She couldn't help but acknowledge the domesticity of the situation she found herself in as she busied herself on Dylan's boat, but also the irony of how far removed from her former life she now was. She had slept in her ex-husband's bed, stood in her ex-husband's shower, eaten her ex-husband's food and walked her ex-husband's dog, but she had never felt further away from the man himself than she did that morning.

She hadn't been sure if it was the alcohol in her bloodstream that had disrupted her sleep or the fact that whenever she closed her eyes she pictured her husband sleeping next to Zoe in a swanky hotel room, but despite not going to bed until gone midnight she had been awake before 5am.

On opening her eyes Sam had initially been very confused as to her exact location. In the darkness before the dawn broke her husband's bedroom had seemed like an alien environment and the thumping of a hangover induced headache through her brain had prevented her from gathering her thoughts. In fact she had only been brought back to the reality of her situation by the unexpected appearance of shiny doggy eyes in the corner of the darkened room.

Dervla had seemed wary of her when Sam had eventually made her entrance in the middle of the night, but she hadn't established whether the daft dog was attempting some sort of guilt trip for her late arrival or whether it was a lingering resentment against her sudden departure from both Dervla and her master's lives last year. Dylan had been adamant that she was not to have any contact with their dog on her return from Afghanistan and she had reluctantly accepted his wishes, despite how much she had missed the mutt when she's been away. Technically they may have had an equal claim to Dervla's custody but she couldn't stand the thought of separating Dylan from his beloved dog.

The very same dog had steadfastly and stubbornly refused to eat the food Sam had laid out for her the night before and had been an unwilling participant in a walk earlier than morning. Not for the first time Sam considered the truth in the commonly held belief that dogs took after their owners and smiled as she thought of the similarities between Dylan and his "other" wife. The two of them were made for each other in a way that Sam couldn't see Dylan ever being connected with anyone else, except she thought sadly the way he had once been connected to her.

Dervla related issues aside; Sam wasn't sure how she felt at her own presence on Dylan's boat. She had only ever seen the previous model from the outside but she had imagined that it had suited her husband and his lifestyle well. This new boat was both modern and minimalist in look, to the point of reminding her of an Ikea showroom and Sam couldn't help but feel that the style jarred with Dylan's chaotic and cluttered student-like living arrangements. The boat had so far given up no clues as to the reason for its recent arrival nor had she any idea how her husband may have afforded it. She had no concept of how much a boat actually cost to buy and neither her or Dylan were particularly short of money, but they had yet to finish dividing their bank accounts and she was sure she would have noticed if he had spent the entire contents of their savings accounts in the past few weeks. That was definitely a conversation she needed to have with him upon his return, especially as she had so far not made any plans for her own living arrangements past her current lease.

After she had walked Dervla and showered Sam found herself sitting on Dylan's sofa clothed in one of his dressing gowns and with her wet hair hanging limply down her back. Due to her premature awakening it was still shy of 6am so there was no need to leave for work for at least two more hours. On any other day she would have gone into work despite the early hour as there was never a shortage of patients to treat in the E.D. yet as she had reflected the night before, this was her one opportunity to spend time in Dylan's personal space and she was determined to savour every second of it.

She drunk in the contents of the living area, starting to recognise objects and possessions that had been present in the house they once shared. The medical books and journals on the shelves and piled up on the tables were familiar to the home she had once lived in, although the editions themselves were new. Their old living room had been filled with an array of literature on cutting edge emergency medical treatment and the latest clinical diagnoses. They had been the only people she had known who didn't feel the need to own a television; rather they had spent their time studying for exams and progressing their own knowledge away from work.

She noted that there was still no television present at Dylan's current residence, despite the fact she was now the owner of one herself. She had never been someone to watch much TV and she never got caught up in watching dramas, soaps or alike, but programmes provided a strange sense of companionship in her empty flat. The silence of living alone was the worst part of returning home each night after work and the constant chatter of television news was enough to keep her just on the right side of sanity. She'd had to learn to moderate her viewing at times though, because after a traumatic shift her day could deteriorate rapidly on hearing a news report of deaths in Afghanistan. It strangely comforted her that Dylan still had no need for a television set, taking the implication it meant he was relatively happy with Dervla for company and wasn't pining away for an emotional contact with the outside world in the way she recognised that she herself was.

She stood up to look more closely at some of the items cluttering the bookcases that all but filled the small living area of the boat. Her husband wasn't one for holding onto treasured items or displaying precious possessions for visitors to see, so it was fascinating for her to see what pieces had made it onto the shelves and walls of this new boat. Unsurprisingly there were no photographs, although the charcoal picture of Dervla that she had given him for Christmas several years previously was framed and centrally placed. However the other items all appeared to be inconsistent with the Dylan she had thought she knew, with various knick-knacks, glass vases and empty plant pots cluttering the remainder of the space. The man she remembered had hated all the "girly" things she had tried to bring into the house and had killed the only plant they had owned by refusing to water the stupid thing whilst she had been away on a course.

As Sam analysed the contents of the room she realised how little she knew about her husband's current life outside of work. Whilst he was still broadly the same man she recollected, she could see so many little differences from the person she once felt so connected to. These things all seemed small and insignificant individually, such as the glaring red cushions on the sofa when he had always preferred muted colours, yet when she added them together all Sam could do was try to brush off the feeling of despondency she felt at losing her connection to how Dylan's mind worked.

After she had continued to rummage through the living area for a while longer, Sam turned her attention to the kitchen in the realisation that she had not eaten anything since lunchtime the day before. Dylan's fridge was as organised and regimented as ever, as if each item had its own precise location that it could not deviate from. She removed the milk to make herself the coffee she knew would be required before she faced her journey to work and instinctively reached out to the cupboard above the sink to source the coffee and sugar.

It was in the moment that she looked up and saw saucepans rather than the expected jars that Sam felt a sense of sadness wash over her at how far Dylan had travelled away from her since their split. She desperately opened the remainder of the drawers and cupboards in an attempt to offer an explanation as to why everything was turned on its head, yet all she found were more questions than answers. The Keogh household kitchen had been his domain as Sam had never been particularly culinary minded and she had begrudgingly accepted the irritating habit he had of organising the life out of each knife, fork and spoon.

A few years previously she remembered bickering with him about his obsessive behaviour and had changed the kitchen around whilst he had been at work just to annoy him. However rather than argue with her on his return he had instead quietly returned everything to its original location and she had come to love the structure he brought to every part of her life. From that point onwards, it hadn't mattered where they lived the coffee jar had always been in the cupboard above the sink and despite the fact she no longer lived with him she had been sure that her kitchen would match his forevermore. The fact that the coffee now appeared to live two cupboards down had thrown her far more than a single item being out of place ever should have done, yet it was not the item itself but everything it symbolised that was bringing tears to her eyes.

She nearly screamed aloud when Dervla chose that exact moment to startle her by appearing in the kitchen area beside her and tucking into the food that had been left out for her the previous night.

"So now you'll eat it?" Sam questioned, causing her dog flinch slightly at the aggressive tone to her voice and turn to look up at her, big doggy eyes looking incredibly sad. Sam closed her eyes and breathed deeply before fleeing into Dylan's bedroom. She had never once raised her voice to that dog before today and given how apprehensive Dervla had been around her anyway, she figured she had just put pay to any chance she had of having a proper reunion with the animal. Her husband had only asked her to do one thing, which was to look after Dervla yet instead she had spent her time rummaging through his possessions and alienating the only creature in the world right now who might have considered loving her.

Sam sat on the corner of Dylan's bed wishing she could take back her behaviour of the past day. She had been abrupt with her husband, she had gotten drunk despite being abstinent from alcohol and now she had shouted at her dog. Plus every time she closed her eyes she couldn't shake the image of Dylan with Zoe at the hotel and wondered if this was her mind's idea of a perverse payback for her own past indiscretions.

As she sat there she wondered if it was possible for her day to get any worse, but given the still early hour she didn't fancy her chances of making it to midnight without further incident. Of course reaching it to midnight in itself meant she would have to face up to it being Sunday without the one person in the world who would understand how she was feeling and the thought of that was more than she could bear.

It was at that moment she caught sight of a familiar bag in the furthest corner of the room and she scooted over on the floor towards it. She had been correct in her recognition of the holdall, as on closer inspection it was the bag she had handed to Dylan just before her second tour of duty with the clothes she had been wearing the preceding day to her departure inside. In opening the bag she noted that these same clothes were now washed, ironed and packed neatly away like a reminiscence of a former part of her life. She slowly lifted out her jeans, a blue blouse, a couple of strappy tops and a collection of underwear. Underneath the folded clothing were the comfiest pair of slouchy boots Sam ever remembered owning, which had been the only item she had thought had been lost when Dylan had handed her over the case of her possessions upon her arrival back in the UK some months ago.

Sam leant back against the wall in the corner of the room and clutched the boots tightly. They had been a 25th birthday present from her former husband and she had adored them from the moment she had removed their wrapping paper. She was unsure why he had kept the bag or the boots, nor why they were sitting in the corner of his room as if waiting for her to come home, but just holding them made her heart break.

Despite her annoyance at being asked to dog sit at such short notice and with an assumption she would have no other plans, she had been excited about spending time back in Dylan's space and remembering all the happy times they had shared. That had been especially at the forefront of her mind given the upcoming date that was never far from her mind. Yet since her arrival on board, she had felt like an intruder in the home of someone she barely knew. The furniture and possessions may have felt familiar in part, but she had yet to shake the feeling that everything was a little off kilter to her own expectations of his life. This feeling had only highlighted the immense feelings of loneliness Sam was struggling to manage even on a good day.

Dervla plodded into the room at that point, breaking Sam's trail of thought. The guilt at raising her voice minutes before flickered at the back of her mind and she felt the tears start to fall silently down her cheeks. For the briefest of moments there was an intensity of eye contact with her dog that Sam hadn't felt with anyone in the longest time before Dervla trudged over towards her and came to sit half on her lap, resting her head on Sam's arm in a comforting gesture.

Sam, still in her ex-husband's dressing gown and with damp hair strewn across her face, hugged both her once faithful companion and Dylan's last birthday gift to her tightly, as she finally allowed herself to cry.

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><p><strong>Thank you once again for reading. Reviews, as always, are welcome.<br>Part 4 will be uploaded tomorrow. Callie x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to my three reviewers from yesterday - I'm glad emotional Sam and Dervla seemed to go down well. Today's installment is especially for you. **

**Also not sure what happened, but same as last week despite my update this fic did not move up the list of fics to indicate a new chapter, so some of you may have missed yesterday's part. Chapter 3 is there for you to read if you've yet to see it. **

**Here is chapter 4 of 7. **

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter 4**

Sam reflected back on the shift that she had somehow managed to struggle through and caught herself thinking about how long the past 24 hours had seemed. It had been a similar time the day before that Dylan had handed over responsibility for Dervla to her for the weekend, yet it felt more like a week that a single day.

Despite her early start that morning she had actually nearly been late for work, having spent well over half an hour in a bundled heap on the floor with a scruffy looking dog and her favourite pair of boots. She had hurriedly had to ready herself to depart for Holby City E.D. so she had pulled on the clothes from the holdall, her only alternative being the same outfit she had been wearing the previous day which given her drunken antics hadn't seemed like an appealing option. She had forgone make up for fear of making herself even later and had scraped her still damp hair into a messy looking ponytail, before grabbing the keys to Dylan's car and heading into town.

She had dived into the toilets as soon as she had arrived at work, but hadn't been able to make herself look any more presentable. Her face had been pale and blotchy, so even after she had finished she still managed to look vaguely unwell and the dark circles under her eyes would have given away how tired she was. Her only saving grace she discovered was that a number of her colleagues, Lenny and Linda especially, seemed to be in a similar position and she could therefore cite a hangover as the single cause of her drab outward appearance.

To her astonishment Mr Jordan had given her the same choice two days in a row and allowed her to select which area of the department she wanted to work in. She had inwardly accepted that she was feeling too rough and exhausted to be competent enough to deal with anything too complicated that morning. Therefore, to the surprise of her colleagues, she had selected to share cubicles and CDU with Tom, whilst Lenny and Jordan managed resus. Much to her annoyance Lenny had made a quip about her wanting to be away from the action due to her hangover, but she had known he would be paid back for that by having to spend the day under Jordan's supervision whilst he himself was suffering the after effects of both alcohol and a night with Linda.

When their colleagues had all set about their allocated tasks, Jordan had asked her if she was okay and there had been something about his tone that made her wonder if he had noted her disdain at the thought of Zoe and Dylan being at the conference and this was his offer of moral support. She loosely remembered being informed of his own former relationship with one of their absent colleagues the previous night and wondered if he too was struggling at the thought of them together in a hotel.

She had spent the shift being grateful for Tom's ever enthusiastic presence alongside her, because she knew she had not been firing on all cylinders and he had been able to give her the focus she needed. She normally hated deferring to anyone she did not consider her senior, regardless of rank or qualification, which was one of her issues in working under Zoe. Yet she had been able to work successfully with Tom and had willingly allowed him to lead, which she knew had been noticed by Jordan in one of his irritatingly frequent appearances to check on her throughout the day.

She collected her belongings from her locker and headed out to the car park. She had never had a need for a car of her own given that work was in easy walking distance of her flat and even prior to her departure for Afghanistan she had barely driven in years. However that morning the need to get to work in record time had overtaken any desire she had felt to walk from Dylan's boat.

As she threw her possessions into the passenger seat of Dylan's car and jumped inside herself, it crossed her mind that the vehicle itself was very much her husband's style. It had always amused her that despite their relative means and income they had never bought a new car and Dylan had instead preferred to drive an old jeep or land rover, one which had usually seen better days several years previously.

Sam had forgotten how much she hated driving in the dark and the wet until she turned out of the car park. Her job required such long hours that in winter months she usually arrived at work in darkness and left when night had already fallen. She had sometimes gone for a whole week without seeing daylight and her only knowledge of the weather was from the state her patients tended to be in on their arrival.

As she drove away from the hospital her thoughts returned to the impending change of day. Midnight was now only six hours away and Dylan's absence was beginning to weigh heavier on her mind. It wasn't the first time she had been away from him on 29th January, because last year she had been posted to the other side of the world, yet back then they had made arrangements in advance to speak at midnight in both their time zones. That had been despite the fact they had split up only weeks beforehand and Dylan had still been incredibly raw about her idiotic fling.

Sam yawned as she turned off the main road and onto the unlit lane that led down to moorings. She knew it had been a very long day and her lack of sleep from the previous night was really beginning to hit her hard. As she drove through a large puddle on the road she felt the car's wheels spin slightly underneath her, which jolted her back to reality and caused her to grip the steering wheel even tighter than before.

Lights from a car coming in the opposite direction blinded her for a second, but it was as the vehicle passed her and she entered a sharp bend that she felt the wheels spin for a second time and the car start to skid across the road towards the woods.

Sam felt the world cease moving for a second despite the car no longer being under her control and in that instant she did nothing. It felt like the longest moment, but she knew it could only have been a second, and she completely failed to take any evasive action to get the car back on course.

She came to her senses in time to prevent herself crashing straight into a tree and managed to bring the car to a grinding stop on the side of the road. She could feel her heart pounding against the inside of her chest and it felt as if she couldn't catch her breath. Her hands were gripped so tightly onto the steering wheel that her knuckles had gone white and her foot was still forcing down the brake pedal despite the fact that the car was no longer moving.

Sam felt a sudden need to escape from the confined space of the vehicle and staggered out of the door into the rain, breathing heavily and her head spinning. She felt this overwhelming need to cry but the tears just wouldn't fall. The shock of her near-death style experience was all-consuming and the image of how close she came to hitting that tree was on replay through her mind.

She couldn't believe that she would have let herself crash into the tree, at least not consciously. Yet a small part of her considered that there was an outside possibility that this may have been exactly what she had wanted after all. She tried to comprehend how she had ended up here, standing by the side of the road in the pouring rain having nearly driven her ex-husband's car up a tree, but she came up short of answers.

She knew that her angst over the thought of Dylan and Zoe being away together had contributed to her mood, as had the unexpected discoveries in her husband's boat that morning. However none of these came close to the dread she was feeling about the clock striking midnight on the anniversary of that awful day, especially given that her only company was likely to be a dog. But, Sam considered, even taking all of that into account she had to believe that in that split second she had not wanted to crash, merely that she briefly saw the opportunity for an escape.

Even in those darkest times four years before she had never wanted to die, although both her and Dylan had been fairly self-destructive for a while. She may have been feeling very low and lonely for a while now, but she knew that her husband would be devastated if she was actually gone and whilst they may have lost their connection in recent weeks, their shared history could never be erased.

Sam took one final deep breath before clambering back into the car and starting to drive the remainder of the way back to the boat. Her nerves were shot to pieces to the point where she barely put her foot on the accelerator for the entire journey, but her perseverance eventually came through as she arrived back near the tow path and abandoned the vehicle.

As she entered Dylan's home a few minutes later the first thing she noted was that the milk carton was still on the side in the kitchen, exactly where she had left it when coffee jars being in the wrong place had caused her to have a breakdown of sorts. There was an irony of sorts in that she had cried over milk that hadn't even been spilt, but she couldn't bring herself to smile.

The second thing she noted was that the light on the answer machine was flashing to indicate that Dylan had received a message. She silently debated whether or not to pick it up, given that it was after all a message left on Dylan's personal answerphone, but decided that as it may be important it was her duty as his house-sitter to listen. She pressed play and then stood there open-mouthed as her husband's booming voice filled the small space. Her husband's booming voice that was leaving a voicemail message for Dervla.

"You left a message for the dog and not me?" Sam questioned aloud to herself as the very dog that was the intended recipient appeared by her side, drawn to the phone by the sound of her master's voice. To be demoted from wife to dog sitter had hurt her badly, but to now be completely dismissed without a mention felt almost cruel.

She didn't want to consider that Dylan had actually forgotten the significance of tomorrow's date, yet for him to leave a message for her to play to his dog, the dog she was sitting in his absence, and for him to not even acknowledge her caused the little that was left of her heart to shatter.

She caught sight of sad doggy eyes looking up at her and wondered if Dervla was questioning why the sound of Dylan's voice hadn't made her happy. She couldn't bring herself to raise her voice to the animal for the second time in a day but she just wished Dervla would stop meeting her gaze. Looking into the eyes of her husband's beloved dog was like looking straight at him, but she knew that Dervla couldn't provide her with the reassurance or answers that she desperately wanted.

Sam stood and surveyed the contents of the small room once again and it hit her that no one would even know the owner of this boat had a past, let alone a wife and all the history that came with their lives together.

It was at that point she realised that she could not live like this any longer. Everything she had, or more accurately everything she didn't have, revolved around the man who lived in this very room and whilst she couldn't bear the thought of losing him for good, she also knew she could not stay tied to him forever. As much as she believed Zoe was totally the wrong person for Dylan to take up with, she had to accept that if he had chosen to move on then she would have to learn to be happy for him.

Sam knew exactly what she needed to do. Come midnight she would light a candle, just the same as always and then spend the day walking somewhere nice with Dervla. Then on Monday she would arrange to see Dylan and she would inform him that they needed to start divorce proceedings. It was time she set them both free.

It was a decision felt both liberating and terrifying at the same time and she knew she must have seemed tense as Dervla appeared by her side again and sat with her head leaning on Sam's leg. Sam bent down so she was at the same level as her companion and ruffled the tangled mess on the dog's head.

"What would I do without you eh?" she asked. "I've really missed you, you know that right?" She laughed at her own question, knowing full well Dervla wasn't capable of supplying an answer. However now that she was at this lower level Sam's eyes spied something under the coffee table that she had missed the day before due to the books strewn over the table top itself.

"I can't believe you kept it," Sam whispered aloud to no one in particular. "I'm sorry for doubting you."

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><p><strong>Thank you again for reading and reviews, as always, are welcome. <strong>

**You've had four installments of angsty/distressed Sam and just snippets of what is going on, but I promise the story behind the emotions will begin to become apparent very soon. Three more parts to go! **

**Part 5 will be up tomorrow morning. ****Callie x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much to my five reviewers, especially Anny and Meggi as always. Sorry if I scared any of you with the near crash in the last chapter! I just feel with someone like Sam, sometimes it is only the fear of physical harm that can make them face emotional pain. **

**You will start to get some answers in this part about what is going on, but there is still a lot more to go! **

**Here is part 5 of 7. (Sorry for slightly later updated that normal, illness has taken over!)**

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter 5**

Sam had been adamant that Dylan would not have kept any of the possessions from their marriage. His emotional detachment was clear for the whole world to see on a daily basis and she knew he had never been one for keepsakes. Yet here she was sitting on the floor of his living space preparing to open the white box that she had spied a short while before.

Sam remembered carrying the same box into Dylan's house on the day she first moved in with him. She herself had never been one for sentimentality but she had kept a small number of belongings from her family and childhood in this container as a reminder of the life she had long since left behind. Her husband had initially been very dismissive of such an item but in the turbulent years of their cohabitation they had both contributed items to the collection. She guessed it suited both of their personalities to place such emotive objects into a box and close the lid tightly shut, rather than actually having to display feelings for the world to see.

She hadn't been sure what to expect when she removed the lid, but what confronted her was definitely different to her imaginings. The last time she had seen this box, which according to her calculations must have been two years previously prior to her first tour of duty, it had been sparsely populated by a small number of key items. However as she placed the lid on the floor beside her she wasn't sure whether to be excited or disappointed by the contents.

The box itself was almost full, but a great deal of the contents appeared to be made up of paperwork. The thought that Dylan may have used her treasured box for storing documents caused her heart to sink and for a moment she considered not going any further. The past twenty four hours had already been more of an emotional rollercoaster than Sam was used to and she wasn't sure how she would feel if her memories had been destroyed.

She took a deep breath and removed the first batch of paperwork, before turning it over in her hands to get a better look at the documentation. It took her a moment to realise what she was looking at, but on scanning the words she realised that these were copies of emails from herself to Dylan sent from when she was out in Helmand. From the dates and wording they appeared to be emails from her first tour, back when the two of them had been together and she had been trying to disguise quite how hard it was out there every time they spoke.

It warmed her slightly that Dylan had actually gone to the trouble of printing these out, never mind that he had put them into this special box. She reached back into the box and took out the second similar batch of papers. Again she recognised them as her emails, but it wasn't until she went to put them down that she realised these were dated from her second tour. It raised her intrigue that her ex-husband would have even bothered to read half of her communications from that time given both the animosity of their split and that she knew he had not replied to the majority of them at the time.

She reached into the box again and pulled out a plastic wallet full of blue envelopes which to her were immediately recognisable as her letters home from war. These blueys had been her lifeline to England and in writing them she had been able to put into words some of the thoughts she had over missing him back then, words that never seemed appropriate in an email. On her first tour it had been receiving his in response that had kept her going through the darkest of days and it had been the absence of them on her second which had pushed her to the limits of despair. She remembered watching the eighteen year olds soldiers, those who looked far too young for action, receiving blueys like clockwork from their parents, siblings, grandparents and teenage sweethearts back home and saw the impact these letters had on the lads. In those last eight months she had spent in hell, all she had wanted was to feel that lift of emotion the others had when the blueys were delivered. To know she had not had anyone back home who had cared enough anymore to send her one had been unbearable.

There was a final set of paperwork in the box and as Sam pulled it out she felt her stomach do a somersault at the sight of Dylan's handwriting. The blue paper was again familiar, but these were letters to her than never appeared to have been sent. There were eight in all, dated at monthly intervals from the departure date of her second tour and they were all filled with her husband's neat scrawl.

The letters were filled with news of Dervla, which made her smile despite herself, and details of interesting cases that Dylan had treated in the preceding weeks. In any event they were almost identical to the ones he had sent her on her first tour, yet these had been from when they were separated. She assumed that this was the reason he hadn't posted them at the time but she wasn't sure she understood him enough anymore to know why he actually wrote them, so instead she just studied every single word. She knew he would never have understood how much it would have meant to her to receive these out there, but the fact was that he had still cared enough to write them at all.

By the time she finished the letters Sam felt both drained and comforted in equal measure. She placed all of the paperwork to one side, making a mental note to read them again before Dylan returned and life went back to how it was just the day before. For tonight, well until midnight at least, she wanted to forget about everything that had been buzzing through her mind and just concentrate on all of the good times they had shared. She knew that come Monday she would have to tackle her husband over the state of their marriage and a timescale for divorce, but that could wait for now.

Sam pulled the box closer together and due to the clutch of papers being removed she could now see the remainder of the contents a lot more clearly. There were definitely more photographs than she remembered from her last viewing of the box. As a couple her and Dylan had never taken many photographs, but there were some occasions that they had accepted needed recording for posterity.

Sam took out the handful of photographs and in turn looked at each one intently. Every picture had captured a special moment in time of the Keogh household, Mr and Mrs plus one very dopey dog. There was their first Christmas together, back when they had been so expectant and hopeful for the future. She had moved in in a whirlwind that very same week, despite the fact that their fledgling relationship was only a few months old. Dylan's flat had been in a state of disorganised chaos for as long as she had known him, but everything within it had been allocated its own spot. Sam remembered being so worried about not wanting to impose on his space, having felt so incredibly grateful to him for allowing her into his life in the first place. Yet part of his Christmas present to her had been to clear out half of his storage so she could have her own wardrobe and he had given up enough of his shed space so that she could safely store her bike. Her lack of obsessive organisation had jarred with his behaviours at first, but he had eventually stopped nagging her about leaving her gym bag and boots in the corner of their bedroom every night. Later on and much to her surprise he had even moved his belongings from one bedside cabinet to the other so that Sam then had the side of the bed under the window, which was the spot they would both have preferred. She smiled remembering how it was the little things he did that had always made her happy.

Learning to live with Dylan had been an experience in itself. Sam had never been particularly fond of sharing her space with other people so had lived alone since she was old enough to do so. Her husband had not been an easy person to cohabit with either, but they had quickly gotten into a routine of working, studying and spending time together. Their idea of a nice evening had become a walk through the park with Dervla followed by Dylan reading them both articles from various medical journals. Their peers at the hospital back then had thought them very strange, but neither of them had felt any need to socialise away from the other. Unfortunately it had been this complete reliance on each other that meant their separation now was harder to bear.

There was a collection of photographs taken when they had been on various holidays over the years. She had taken him and Dervla camping in Cornwall just before the wedding and they had spent hours walking along the windswept beaches and cliff tops, enjoying both the isolation of their location and the company they gave each other. Then there was the skiing trip to Austria that had suited her action girl tendencies down to the ground. Dylan had been less than impressed by the activities on offer, preferring to remain in the hotel with a book in front of the fire. She remembered that he had managed to listen with interest as she told him all about the various moves and skills she had demonstrated on the mountainside before he had treated her to a meal out at a posh restaurant every night.

Their honeymoon had been her favourite holiday though, as despite being arranged at short notice their trip to South Africa had been breath taking. They had taken in a safari before spending some time on the coast and it was obvious from the photographs in her hands how relaxed the pair of them had been. The memory of that shared experience was something she would treasure forever, as the Dylan she had known on that trip had been a special chilled out version of him that only she had ever seen.

The photograph taken on their wedding day was one picture she had seen fairly recently, as by some feat of ingenuity their colleagues in the E.D. had managed to get hold of a copy and displayed it within the department only weeks earlier. She had never understood why they had arranged a church wedding when neither of them was traditionally religious nor were they particularly interested in entertaining their guests, but the day itself had been stunning in its simplicity.

The photograph of them both with Dervla and a snowman made her laugh aloud despite the emotive nature of the task she was undertaking. That had been taken only two weeks after she had moved in with Dylan and his dog when Dylan had told Sam, much to her horror, that he had never built a snowman and she had convinced him to join her in the snowy garden to help her create a masterpiece. The outcome of their endeavours was a slightly lopsided but adorable snowman that had been worthy of a picture and Sam had somehow managed to capture her and Dylan's faces pressed up to the snowman via her phone. It had only been when they printed the picture off later on that they had noticed Dervla's little doggy face had made it into the shot by appearing over the head of their creation.

There was also the picture of her in full army uniform at an event back at base. It had been the first time she had introduced Dylan to her comrades and she had loved showing him off to her fellow medics. His encyclopaedic knowledge of emergency medical treatment had kept them enthralled in conversation for the longest period of time and that day she had been so incredibly proud to call him her husband. For a long time afterwards he had teased her about how obedient she was with her superiors in the armed forces, as she deferred to them in a way she never had with him. He had joked that he loved her independent spirit and he hoped that the army would not drum that out of her.

The last photograph in the pile she had in her hand was a formal picture that had been taken of the two of them at a medical ball at their previous hospital. Sam had never been a fan of the photograph personally but she knew Dylan had loved seeing her all dressed up that night. He had reluctantly spent several hours shopping with her to choose an appropriate outfit for her to wear but on the night in question he had bought her flowers for the first time and told her she was beautiful.

Looking at the photograph again Sam remembered why she wasn't a fan of it the first time around. Dylan's tuxedo made him look very dapper, but the blue dress she herself was wearing drew attention all her own insecurities. Despite Dylan's words, she had never felt she had been a particularly pretty girl and she had been more at home with no make-up, scraped back hair and running about with the dog than she had been at a formal event. She thought back to the time they had become a couple and wondered if the circumstances had been different whether they would ever have lasted. She may have been the only student who had been able to hold her own with him in a debate, but she knew that if he hadn't been so abrasive with them he could have had his pick of her classmates. For the longest time she had thought Dylan wasn't particularly interested in well dressed, pretty women, but having seen him with Zoe she was no longer sure. She couldn't bring herself to ask the question as to whether that meant she or Zoe was actually his type, because she wasn't sure she would be able to bear the answer.

One of the last items in the box was a set of ID cards from the hospital where they had met and Sam smiled at how young they both looked in the photographs. She had heard about the infamous Dr Keogh before they had been introduced formally and despite his obvious disinterest in mentoring, she had worked harder than anyone else in her cohort to impress him. His abrupt and overly honest way of speaking meant that no one else even considered requesting to work under him, but she was determined to move past the gruff exterior of this man. She had spent hours listening to him and watching him perform complex medical procedures and eventually the investment of her time paid off. She had become like his shadow and her ability to read him, despite him never outwardly referencing what he was thinking, meant they worked like a perfect team when treating patients.

She thought that he had liked her when he introduced her to Dervla after he unexpectedly turned up at her flat with a journal she would need to complete an element of her portfolio, but she knew he had been oblivious to the fact that she had long since fallen for him. Despite the age difference between them she had known how well they suited each other for quite some time. Dylan's lifestyle was chaotic and student like, whereas Sam had always felt her attitude was older than that of her peers. To her that had meant they approached life at the same point in time, despite their differing histories and experiences.

The ID cards reminded her of a time before their lives got complicated, back before she defined her life by her relationship status with Dr Dylan Keogh. She had been his mentee, his partner, his fiancé, his wife, his ex and now she was his dog-sitter. They had never really been actual friends, not away from the deep rooted connection they had shared the whole time, but the thought of that gave her cause for consideration. If she was able to stay true to her vow to confront Dylan over ending their marriage, she wondered if they would ever able to be friends. She knew she would rather be part of his life than to never see him again, but being friends with Dylan would never be an easy relationship to have.

However the person who said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all definitely had it right Sam thought to herself. Dealing with the fall out of her separation from Dylan had driven her to despair, but having looked back through all of these memories she wouldn't have changed loving him for a single moment.

Sam took a deep breath and put her hand back into the box to retrieve the last item, which she held with more care than she had done the previous possessions. It felt familiar in her hands despite the length of time it had been since she last held it, but the simple act of removing it from the box caused tears to prick at the back of her eyes.

The smaller pink box was tied up with a white ribbon and it felt heavy in her hands, despite it weighing very little. There was so much of her life and her connection to Dylan enclosed in the contents of her hands that she couldn't begin to comprehend how she would feel to untie the bow and lift of the lid once again.

There were three hours until midnight came on that fateful day once again and all she wanted in that moment was to be in Dylan's arms. She ran her fingers over the inscription on the side of the box, "Olivia Samantha Keogh. 29th January 2008" and felt her herself break inside.

"I love you sweetheart," were the only words she could manage before the tears that had thus far stayed in her eyes started to fall down her cheeks. "Mummy and Daddy both love you very much."

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><p><strong>So there you go... A lot of you were on the right track in your review comments about where this fic was heading, but I've not finished telling this story yet. Reviews, as always, are welcome. <strong>

**The next part will be up tomorrow (but maybe not quite as early, given it is a Saturday!). Callie x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed chapter 5. I seem to have made some of you cry, which I will take as a compliment because I hadn't anticipated how powerful people would find that update. Your reviews as always have touched me and thank you for all the feedback on how this story is progressing. Special thanks to Anny and Meggi for their support on this one. **

**Just to say, chapter 6 does deal with the circumstances surrounding Olivia, which might not be an easy read. I thought I should put that out there as a warning, so you know what to expect.**

**Here is chapter 6 of 7.**

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter 6**

Sam had sat staring at the contents of the pink box for at least fifteen minutes before she plucked up the courage to touch any of the precious items it contained. She had been joined in her spot on the floor by Dervla, who it appeared had sensed the overwhelming feeling of sadness that had descended on the room and thought that her company may again be required. A part of Sam couldn't believe that she was sitting in Dylan's home, with Dylan's dog, surrounded by the memories of her marriage on the eve of their daughter's birthday without even knowing if her husband had remembered the significance of tomorrow's date.

She had undone the white bow of the box with some trepidation. The ribbon had felt incredibly soft against her fingertips and as she removed it she had wrapped it around her wrist, having not wanted to lose the feel of it against her skin for a single moment. She remembered that day two years previously when Dylan had returned late from work, causing her to briefly consider whether he had cracked under the pressure and had ended up in a pub somewhere on route. Instead he had surprised her with the gift of the small engraved box he had ordered some weeks earlier ready for collection the day before it had been required for use.

The gift itself had been a symbolic gesture for the two of them after an incredibly difficult two years. The simple act of placing all of their cherished memories of Olivia into a box on the anniversary had been therapeutic and had enabled them to move forwards with both of their lives. It was unfortunate, Sam thought to herself, that in moving on they had grown apart but she knew that she had to accept responsibility for the distance which had developed between them. After all, she remembered, it had been her who had ceased to be satisfied with the life they shared. She couldn't help but be caught up in the irony of that thought, given that she would now move mountains to get back to that time with her husband once again.

She had finally summonsed up the courage to remove the first few items from the pink case. The paper felt flimsy in her hands, belying the immense importance she attached to the pictures printed onto them. There were four scan photos in total; 24 weeks, 16 weeks, 12 weeks and 8 weeks and even four years on from Olivia's birth she could remember every minute detail of her baby's appearance at each stage. She had never felt it was appropriate to have a favourite scan picture, but the one she had from the 16 week appointment showed Olivia apparently waving at the camera. She had remembered Dylan joking at the time that their daughter already appeared to be more outgoing that either of them even before she'd entered the world.

Despite the fond memories attached to that picture, it was the 8 week scan that had held the deepest feelings for Sam. She had taken the pregnancy test before arriving at work that morning and the positive result had sent her head into a spin. She had felt totally unable to confide in Dylan and had spent the entire shift trying to avoid working with him, which given that he was supposed to be observing her for her portfolio had been a difficult feat.

She had completely gone to pieces under the pressure and had fled from him to take refuge in the ladies toilets. Much to her surprise he had followed her in, concern written across his face, and through her sobs she had confessed her news. She had anticipated that he wouldn't exactly be pleased with the unexpected development, hence not having wanted to face him in the first place, but the ferocity of his response had been astonishing to her.

Ever since he had taken on responsibility for her mentoring they had bickered and the closer they had grown, the more tangled their debates had become but she had never seen real anger from him until that day. She had stood leaning against one of the sinks, crying so hard that it hurt, whilst he ranted about her throwing away the chance of a great medical career. He had told her that she was ruining everything they had worked for together with her stupidity and had made sure she was well aware how disappointed he was before he stormed out on her. Their intense connection had always been tempestuous but she had been devastated by his reaction to what should have been happy news.

Sam had sat for at least half an hour in the toilets unable to deal with facing him again before he had returned and physically dragged her off for a scan. Her tears had finally ceased upon seeing the tiny little person who was growing inside her and in that moment she had known that no matter what it cost her she was bringing this child into the world. Dylan had initially dismissed the image as being nothing more than a smudge, but she had noticed that his eyes had barely left the screen. They had sat there in silence for what had felt like forever, however when he had eventually made eye contact with her she could see the tears in his eyes.

He had been insistent from that first scan that the baby was a girl, despite her pointing out that it was far too early to see that. She remembered that they had both laughed when he pointed out that the esteemed Dr Keogh was never wrong about anything and they had referred to her as Olivia from almost that point forward. She smiled now at the recollection of her 24 week scan when Olivia had finally allowed the maternity department to confirm that Dylan had been correct in his deductions.

The scan pictures held such strong memories for her that it was difficult to put them down, but Sam wanted to continue to explore the contents of her daughter's box. She took out the next item, which was a small pink teddy bear. Dylan had given her the wrapped up bear with a tag that indicated it was for his "two favourite girls". She had removed the paper carefully to reveal the cuddly toy, which was holding a set of keys. The gift had been his way of inviting Sam to move in with him without having to say the emotionally charged words aloud and had demonstrated his acceptance of the future his new family was going to have. The little pink bear had sat on their bed for the remainder of Sam's pregnancy and had bought comfort to them both after Olivia was gone.

The next items she removed from the box were Olivia's birth and death certificates. Sam slowly traced her fingers over her little girl's name, Olivia Samantha Keogh, and the date on both documents, 29th January 2008. She had to blink back the tears as she held onto the only official proof she had that her angel had even existed. She remembered that Dylan had gone to the registry office alone as she hadn't been strong enough to sign the forms. She knew now that everyone believed she was the strong one, tough from serving time in Afghanistan, but despite him rarely outwardly showing any emotion Sam knew that her husband was a lot stronger than she would ever be.

The hospital tag for "baby Keogh" and the tiny footprints stamped onto a piece of card were the next two items she removed from the box. Most of the time Sam was able to compartmentalise her life and she kept the memories of that day locked away at the back of her mind, quite like having the items themselves stored away in a box. However the tiny arm tag and miniature feet took her straight back to that day four years ago, with all of the emotion and harsh reality fresh in her head as if the events had occurred only yesterday.

From the very moment of that first 8 week scan Dylan had promised to protect her and the baby from harm, but in the end it had been her that had failed to live up to her side of that bargain. He had stood by her despite his reservations yet she had not been able to keep their little girl safe. She remembered how scared she had been when she realised Olivia hadn't moved for an entire day and that she hadn't been able to meet Dylan's eye when she revealed her suspicions. Once the scan had confirmed her worst fears the terrible enormity of the situation had hit home and she had spent the night wrapped in Dylan's arms sobbing her heart out as he stroked her hair and reassured her Olivia wouldn't have suffered.

The next morning they had returned to the hospital for Sam to be induced. Eight terrible, gut-wrenching hours later Sam and Dylan had welcomed Olivia into the world for the first time, as their little angel was born sleeping at 26 weeks. There had been some excellent staff on the ward that day, people they had both known as acquaintances through their work in the E.D. and they had helped Sam take the beautiful, tiny sweetheart's footprints to preserve for posterity. Sam barely remembered anything after that, as she had been reduced to a state of numbness by her loss. She knew Dylan had held the tiny baby, who had weighed in at only 1 ½ pounds, and cuddled her until it had been time for them to leave, but after that her memory was blank.

Sam wiped the tears from her eyes once again and ran her fingers through her already messy hair. Dervla moved from her side to lay her head in Sam's lap, her big expressive eyes looking up at her expectantly.

"You remember?" Sam questioned of her companion. "You remember how sad we all were, don't you doggy?" Dervla had been such a comfort to her back then, as she had been on this day too. In the few weeks after Olivia had died, their household had been consumed by emptiness and was devoid of any form of life. Sam remembered spending days lying in a nightmarish cocoon curled up on the bed with the curtains closed, her head on Dylan's chest, his hand on her back and their dog sprawled across both of their legs. Eventually her partner had begun to take steps back to the reality outside of their home, taking Dervla for a walk and almost force feeding Sam the food he brought back from their trips to the shops.

Sam picked out the pressed white snowdrop from the box and twisted it through her fingers repeatedly. The funeral Dylan had arranged was simple, but beautiful. It had been a cold February day with frost on the ground when they had arrived at that church. Dylan had carried the tiny white coffin into the service and Sam remembered stopping by the entrance to pick a single snowdrop to place atop her daughter's grave. The two of them had been the only people present except the vicar conducting the service, but they had all sung "Twinkle twinkle little star" until their voices were filled with too much emotion to continue. Dylan had read a short piece of poetry, a piece that she knew they would both be able to recite by heart for the remainder of their days. It had been the most perfect send off for their Olivia and afterwards they had walked Dervla in the countryside for hours and Dylan had found Sam a snowdrop of her own to keep. Every time she had seen a snowdrop ever since she had thought of that day, Dylan and her little girl.

Sam remembered how unbearably difficult that time had been and how it had been Dylan's strength which had brought her through that period. Once that initial devastation had been replaced with the seemingly never-ending task of returning to normal life, she had watched as his strength had dissipated in front of her eyes. They had stopped being able to talk openly and their silences had become uncomfortable almost overnight. Eventually Dylan had sought solace in the bottle and had taken to communicating solely with Dervla, whilst she had finally done what she had been threatening to do since commencing medical training and signed up to be an army medic. The life and death cut and thrust of the armed forces had been extreme but had given her life focus again and made her feel something other than a hollow shell.

Sam took out the last item from the box and held it in the palm of her hand. The first year after Olivia's death had been the hardest time she could remember experiencing. Both her and Dylan had thrown themselves into work wholeheartedly rather than face up to the difficulties they were having in their own lives. It had been Olivia's very existence that had sped up the trajectory of their relationship and in her absence it had been hard for Sam to work out exactly where she stood with the man she loved.

She had chosen to spend several weeks away training for a posting to Afghanistan and on her return she had discovered Dylan's drinking had been out of control to the point where it had affected his work. For the first time since her daughter's death Sam had found the strength to open up to him and tell him how frightened she was that she was going to lose him for good. They had stayed up all night talking and had vowed together to give up alcohol, a vow Sam now guiltily recollected she had publicly and spectacularly broken the previous night.

Despite Dylan not wanting to go into his reasons for turning to the bottle, Sam had eventually convinced him to return her honesty. He had finally admitted that he had been driven to seek something to numb the guilt he felt at being unable to save their daughter or Sam herself from the harm he had sworn to protect them from. He had noticed that Sam had seemed unable to meet his gaze and had assumed she blamed him for not being able to keep them all safe.

Sam remembered the horror she had felt on hearing him say those words out loud and had struggled to keep her emotions in check as she informed him of the real reason for her distance. She had explained that she had spent an entire year unable to look him in the eye because she thought he blamed her for failing to protect their little girl and bring her safely into the world. Their honesty had bonded them over a shared sense of guilt at Olivia's passing despite both of them having enough medical knowledge to know neither was truly responsible.

Two weeks later it had been the first anniversary of Olivia's birth and Dylan had driven Sam to the churchyard where their daughter was buried, before taking her and Dervla on the same walk they had endured on the day of the funeral. When they had reached the furthest point of their walk Dylan had pulled her down to sit on some rocks and look out over the countryside. He had been very attentive, pushing stray windswept hairs from her face to behind her ears and wrapping one arm around her.

After they had sat there for what had felt like forever, Sam remembered that Dylan had passed her two small boxes. The first had contained the tiny silver bracelet that now sat in her palm. It was inscribed with Olivia's name and date of birth, plus the words "Our little snowdrop" and Sam had felt her heart break on seeing it for the first time. The bracelet had been a focal point for their grief that day and Sam had displayed it by her bedside until it was placed in Olivia's memory box the following year.

The second was smaller and Sam had felt her heart flutter on holding it in her hands. Dylan had placed his hand atop hers before she could open it and she remembered him telling her that he loved her and that he would always be there for their family until the end of time. He had finally allowed her to open the box and she had gasped at the gorgeous engagement ring it contained, before saying yes through the salty tears that had been streaming down her face since they had sat down. They had stayed seated on the rocks for hours watching Dervla chase, but fail to catch, rabbits below them as they started to make plans for a future they wanted to rebuild together.

Back on the boat Sam put the little bracelet back inside the box before starting to return the previous items to their original location, retaining only the pink cuddly bear in her hands. She placed the box onto the coffee table and moved herself up onto the sofa, where she curled up on her side with the teddy wrapped in her arms. A despondent looking Dervla jumped up to join her, lying herself along Sam's back and placing one paw on her shoulder.

When she checked her watch she was surprised to see that there was only an hour to go until midnight and she guessed that her reminiscing must have taken a lot more time that she had realised. Sam knew that come the clock striking twelve she would need to phone Dylan and could only hope that she would not be interrupting anything between him and Zoe when she did so.

Sam felt emotionally drained from her evening on board Dylan's boat going through the memories of her marriage and her daughter, but strangely she had found the experience cathartic. Just like her daughter's first anniversary Sam felt that tomorrow was a day for looking to the future just as much as it was recollecting the past. She would always be Dylan's wife and Olivia's mummy, but she knew now that she also needed to learn to be herself again.

So as midnight fast approached, Sam clutched the little bear as she descended into sobs once again at the thought of a future without Dylan or Olivia by her side, but rather than try to stem the fall of tears she allowed herself to cry openly for all of the pain of the past four years and for the difficult days yet to come.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading. I found this chapter quite difficult to write, so I hope it wasn't too hard to read. I can't believe we are almost at the end of this fic - just one part left to go. I also can't believe I have been writing all week and we are almost at Sunday 29th January 2012, in both real life and this story, and you can all find out whether your guesses about Dylan have been correct.<strong>

**Reviews, as always, are welcome. Chapter 7 will be up on Sunday morning. Callie x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sunday 29th January 2012 has finally arrived, both in reality and in the world of Snowdrops. In order to bring this story to the conclusion I felt it needed I have split todays update into both Chapter 7 and an Epilogue, so you get two updates for the price of one today. **

**I hope this part brings the majority of the outstanding questions you have had about Sam, Dylan and Olivia to a conclusion, but there are still a few twists to go before this chapter concludes.**

**Here is chapter 7 of 7, just an epilogue still to go after this. **

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Chapter 7**

Sam sat down on the sofa, coffee mug in hand and pulled the blanket back around her shoulders to keep away the cold. She looked at her watch and realised it wouldn't be long until dawn broke and the boat was filled with wintery day light. Dervla bounded round from the kitchen area to join her and jumped up to sprawl across Sam's lap with her head on the arm of the couch. Today was very much Olivia's day and after the events of the preceding two days Sam knew there was nowhere else she would rather spend her daughter's fourth birthday than right here surrounded by treasured memories.

It was whilst she sat there with that thought in her mind that she was joined on the sofa by her husband, who met her gaze with a half-smile as he sat down, also with coffee mug in hand. The two of them, along with Dervla, stayed there in contented silence just contemplating all that had bought them to this point.

Sam remembered how disorientated she felt when she had first opened her tired eyes two hours previously to an almost consuming darkness, except for one small flicker of light. Her first thought on waking, having cried herself to sleep, had been that it was Olivia's special day, with the second being how safe and warm she felt despite the absence of Dervla's weight from her side.

The moment she had gathered her bearings Sam had sat up sharply, realising that midnight had long since passed and she had yet to phone her other half as planned. She had felt a deep pang of regret that she had been waiting for that one moment for days, yet at some point just before the awaited hour she had given in to emotional exhaustion and slept right through. She had pulled the blanket that had inexplicably appeared over her around her shoulders and had stood up intent on locating her mobile phone. However as she had turned towards the kitchen she had let out an audible gasp of shock at the sight that greeted her and had blinked furiously a few times as if disbelieving her own eyes.

Her husband had been seated at the kitchen counter, Olivia's small pink teddy bear in his hands and Dervla by his side, with a white candle burning brightly on the work surface in front of him. His eyes had been staring and unfocused, yet she had instantly been able to tell from the red puffiness that surrounded them that he had been crying for some time. They had stood there unmoving for what had felt like forever, with Sam unsure if Dylan was even aware of her presence.

"You didn't answer the phone," he had stated, eventually breaking the silence. "I called you and you didn't answer the phone. I couldn't not speak to you tonight."

Sam had listened to him explain that he had been worried about her lack of response and she'd picked up the vague tinge of panic in his tone as he had recalled tracking Zoe down to the hotel bar at half-past midnight and insisting they drove home immediately, much to her annoyance as he had been avoiding her company since they had arrived in London. Dylan described arriving back at the boat after driving his colleague home to find Sam and Dervla fast asleep and as he spoke, the relief on his face had been evident for her to see.

She remembered admitting to him that she thought he had overlooked the importance of the date, which had caused him to look at her with a mixture of horror and disappointment as he questioned how she could even have considered that as a possibility. She had felt awful for even thinking that he could have forgotten their daughter, but he had listened to her reasons; the message he had left for Dervla, the conference, his apparent connection to Zoe and the distance between them since her own arrival from Afghanistan. Sam hated that they were so disconnected from each other that she had thought he had abandoned her, especially given that he had just driven over a hundred miles through the night to be by her side.

Dylan had remarked on their usual ability to be in sync with each other over Olivia, despite the rest of their lives often being out of kilter and she had apologised for ever doubting how much he loved their little girl too.

She had moved from where she stood by the sofa to join him in the kitchen and he had commented, with the brutal honesty she had always loved, that she looked a complete state. Her clothing, removed from the holdall the previous morning, had dried from the soaking she had received at the roadside but had been crumpled from spending hours sifting through possessions on the floor before sleeping alongside Dervla on the couch. She had run her fingers absentmindedly through her hair to smooth it down, but that had been like fighting a losing battle against the mess that had dried atop her head after the earlier rain, so instead she had felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment at how awful she must look in front of the only person she had ever wished to look beautiful for.

Her husband had pre-empted a question she had yet to ask and informed her that the outfit she was wearing had been in the corner of his bedroom in every place he had lived since she left for war. They had talked about how the last time she had worn those clothes felt like the last day she had been his wife, despite the fact that neither one of them could remember exactly who left who or when. She had felt the tears prickling at the back of her eyes at the sound of her husband telling her that he had felt incapable of removing the clothing whilst she had been stationed abroad and that as they had never talked about what would happen next, the bag had been waiting in the corner of his room where she had always left her things ever since.

She recollected that she had reached out and placed her hand on his arm at that point, unnerved by the sight of her usually unemotional husband opening up to her. He had noticed the white ribbon that was still tied around her wrist and had placed one hand over hers, touching the ribbon with his fingertips, just as she had done hours before.

They had sat like that for some time, with Dylan telling her he had argued to be able to take Mr Jordan's place on the conference as he had been sure she wouldn't want to see him today, especially as they had better coped the previous year when kept apart by her army posting. He had explained that once he knew being absent for the date was an option he decided to give her the opportunity to spend time with Dervla, something he knew he should have done on her return but had failed to do for fear it would have reminded him too much of their shared memories. He had told her that both Mr Jordan and Zoe had established there was a reason for him wanting to disappear from Sam's life for that particular weekend, but that he had refused to elaborate despite much pressure and questioning from Zoe and that he had tried, unsuccessfully, to stop them fussing over her too much ever since, knowing that she would hate to be the centre of their concern.

Sam had been unable to hide her disbelief at the fact that far from her being forgotten, it had always been her husband's intention to leave her alone for this weekend to give her the space he thought she needed to deal with their past. She had reluctantly pointed out the irony in the fact that she had instead wanted the opposite of his assumption and they had accepted that communication had never been their strongest quality as a couple. She had asked him whether he had left the two memory boxes for her to find, but he had just shrugged and told her that he had always known she would take the opportunity to look back through the memories of their previous life together, before stating he could only hope that the items had helped her come to terms with her loss.

She recalled telling him that she wished he could have been there to look through all their memories together, to which he had removed his hand from her wrist and turned back to the candle.

"I don't have any right to grieve," he had stated sadly and whilst the simplicity of that statement broke her heart she knew exactly where his mind had travelled to.

Her own thoughts had immediately taken her back to the on-call room at their first hospital after he had borrowed a portable ultrasound machine and had done her 8 week scan on that very first day she had known she was pregnant. It had been just the two of them and Olivia in that room, exactly as it had been eighteen weeks later when Dylan had been the one to tell her that their little baby girl had died before she had even been able to enter the world. For Sam it had been those two key moments, plus the simple act of him registering their baby as Olivia Keogh, that had defined the man in front of her as her baby's father but she knew that in reality it had never been that simple.

As she had watched him staring at the flame she knew that his mind had instead gone back to the day of Olivia's conception, when Sam had gotten tongue-tied trying to explain to him how she felt after drunkenly making a pass at him the previous night. She had been using alcohol to give herself the courage to tell him that she had long since fallen for him, yet he had been the perfect gentleman and just walked her home. In the cold light of day she had tried again to move their connection forwards, but he had dismissed her out of hand stating their relationship was strictly professional. They had subsequently been called out to the scene of an accident and still smarting from the knockback Sam had spent the day flirting with firemen and putting herself in harm's way to get his attention. However when he had left without so much as the courtesy to say goodbye she had ended up drunk once again, only this time in a bar full of fire-fighters, where she had, not for the last time, been unable to resist a man in uniform, a fact which Dylan had thrown back at her many times in later arguments.

Her embarrassed apology for childish behaviour the following day had been enough to get Sam back on her mentor's good side and over the next few weeks they had begun to make a connection that was as personal as it was professional, with him even introducing her to his beloved dog. She had felt so blessed back then to have him in her life, as close to dating the man she loved as she could be given that he never showed any emotional attachment to anyone except to Dervla.

His discovery that she was pregnant therefore had been very difficult for them both to bear, given the crushing disappointment she knew he must have been feeling and she hadn't been surprised when his initial reaction had been to shut down and vent his anger on her for disrupting his mentorship rather than deal with the real issue of where they stood. Yet from the moment he first pointed out her baby on the screen as he scanned her abdomen they had become a family. She remembered it being like they had flicked a switch from her being his student one day to them being a couple the following day, with no real discussion in between. To this day she was still unsure quite why he chose to make that commitment to her, but she had already known that she loved this man from the first moment they had locked horns in debate many months before.

Sitting in the kitchen over four years on from that night she had questioned why he felt he had no right to grieve for their lost little girl and he had responded, so quietly that she had barely heard him, that he was not Olivia's dad.

"Don't ever say that," she had almost snapped at him in shock. "You might not be her biological father, but you will always be her daddy." She had listed for him all the ways that he was their little girl's dad; how he had loved her, he'd been there for her birth, he'd taken care of her funeral, he'd cried for her and by the time Sam had finished tears had been streaming down her cheeks.

They had never talked about him not being Olivia's actual father, because it had never seemed relevant to either of them, yet Sam had now known how unsure her husband was of the role he should be playing in keeping the memory of their daughter alive.

"I'm sorry," she had started, not really knowing how to say the words that had been left unsaid. "I'm sorry I never told you how much I wanted you to be her daddy forever. Olivia was always your baby girl, right back from the moment we first saw her on the screen. I know I needed you to be there to support me, but that was never the only reason I wanted you to be part of our lives. She will always be your daughter; you have every right to grieve for her just the same as me."

Sam reflected back that it had been this statement, almost giving her husband permission to grieve, which had finally allowed him to cry in front of her. She had pulled him into her arms and held him close for quite some time, hoping that he could take comfort from being in her arms just as she had all the times he had held her tight. She knew Dylan had been every inch the perfect dad to Olivia, despite having no reason to step up to that mark other than that he had loved her. So as she stood beside him, with her arms wrapped around him, she told him that their baby had been the luckiest little girl in the world to have him in her life.

"Your coffee will go cold," Dylan spoke, breaking the silence and snapping Sam back to reality of being seated on the sofa with her husband. They had stayed in the kitchen for ages, just holding onto each other before eventually breaking apart with Dylan maintaining that they needed coffee to break them out of their teary state.

She brought the cup to her mouth and winced as she drank some of the liquid, both because the drink was indeed cold but also because the milk appeared to have gone off. Sam recalled that it was likely to be the same milk that she had left out since the previous morning, almost 24 hours ago now, when she had been distracted from making her own coffee by the weirdness of the boat.

"This isn't your boat is it?" Sam questioned, finally grabbing onto a trail of thought that actually made sense to her.

Dylan shook his head before responding. "No, the cold snap a few weeks back damaged the roof of mine so she is in dry dock to be repaired at the moment. I've hired this from a fellow house-boater whilst he is away."

"Makes sense," Sam answered, before continuing in response to his querying look. "The kitchen."

"Tea spoons in the wrong drawer?" he asked, smiling that daft half-smile of his once again.

"Coffee pot in the wrong cupboard," she replied and they both laughed in spite of themselves.

"I should only be here a few weeks," her husband explained. "And it isn't my boat, so I didn't feel I could just move everything around, as much as I hate leaving things in the wrong place." He paused for a moment, "I used to see you run past here every day, 7am almost like clockwork when we were on day shift. I kept meaning to ask you in for coffee and show you around, but then you stopped coming."

"It got too icy," Sam answered, embarrassed that she had not been as discrete in her activities as she thought.

"I thought as much," Dylan stated. "I missed you running by," he added and they again met each other's smile.

Sam looked away, knowing that she did still have a question that she needed to ask him but not sure if she would be pushing him too far to ask it.

"Penny for your thoughts," Dylan queried, piercing her trail of thought. He had always known when she had something to say even before she knew there was a statement to be voiced. It had been an on-going joke between them that his deduction skills when it came to reading other people lay almost at zero, yet with her his abilities were akin to Sherlock Holmes.

"Why wouldn't you try for another baby with me?" she asked, her voice quiet and almost hoarse due to the emotion cursing through it. She remembered how much she had wanted to try for another child with him, not as some knee-jerk reaction to losing Olivia but some two years on because she loved her husband and wanted to bring his baby into the world. He had told her they weren't ready and the weight of that rejection had driven a wedge between them, causing Sam to cease being satisfied with the life that they shared. It had been this dissatisfaction that had led to her agreeing to a second tour of duty despite her husband's concerns and that in turn had led to the breakdown of their marriage.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to," he replied, his expression thoughtful. "But I was scared that I would love a new baby more than Olivia and I couldn't bear the thought of making her second best. I can't do this touchy-feely stuff at the best of times, you know that and I just wasn't ready to do all this talking then."

Sam averted her gaze from him as she started to speak, "It meant the world to me that you chose to let me stay even after Olivia died, but I thought that maybe it was only ever because of her. When you said you didn't want us to try for a baby, I guess I thought it was because you didn't actually want to be with me. I've spent the past few weeks watching you with Zoe and it's so hard to see you move on with someone else knowing that you never looked at me like that."

"You think I've moved on with Zoe?" Dylan questioned, the surprise evident in his tone. "She's only ever been just a friend. You're the one who said we both needed one of those." He placed his coffee cup on the floor before reaching over and doing the same with hers. He brought one of his hands up under Sam's chin and turned her face towards him, before wiping away her tears.

"I never really ever told you that I loved you, but I did," he started, before correcting himself. "I do. There wasn't anyone else before or since and I would never have walked away, that never even entered my head when Olivia died. It was never about her though, I mean yes I did love her too. I still do. But I loved you first back from before I even knew she existed. I introduced you to Dervla for God's sake." Dylan frowned and Sam could tell he knew that his declaration of feeling had come out in a semi-incoherent ramble.

Dervla, having been alerted to the conversation by the sound of her own name, climbed off the sofa and retreated to the floor leaving Sam and Dylan staring each other having reached an impasse in their conversation.

"I thought you were miserable though?" Sam asked solemnly.

"Not with you." Dylan answered. "Never with you."

"All I wanted was to have your baby and to make us a family again," Sam replied.

"Maybe one day we would have done," Dylan responded. "Maybe one day. But you never stopped being my family, you or Olivia."

Sam studied the face of her sweet, brilliant and infuriating husband and wished that they could have had this conversation eighteen months previously when they had started to fall apart. She knew that they had been the anchor in reality each other had desperately needed for the entirety of their relationship but she just wished they had been able to communicate enough to make their marriage work.

A feeling of despondency lay heavy on her heart in that moment at all the time they had wasted in miscommunication and misunderstandings over the years. Caught up in that tidal wave of emotion, Sam moved forwards and leant her head in towards Dylan's own. The moment their lips touched was soft and fleeting, but almost instantly their mouths met again as they pulled each other back into the most intense and desperate kiss either of them had ever experienced. The release they felt was as sensitive as it was passionate and as they parted and their eyes met in a seemingly eternal gaze, Sam knew they would need to talk a lot more come Monday.

However in that instant she allowed her husband to lead her off to his bedroom, closing the door behind them and shutting out the rest of the world.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading and the Epilogue will be up online in just a few moments. <strong>

**Reviews, as always, are very welcome. **


	8. Epilogue

**So here it is, the very last part of Snowdrops - please read the previous update, Chapter 7, before starting on this Epilogue or else it will not make very much sense!**

**Before letting you read the Epilogue I would just like to thank each and every person who has reviewed, favourited, subscribed to or just read this piece of work. This week has been an emotional rollercoaster of writing and I've been so grateful to every one of you who has been part of that journey, especially Anny and Meggi for their endless support. **

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><p><strong>Snowdrops<strong>

**Epilogue**

Sam sat on the bench in the park watching Dylan throwing sticks for Dervla to chase and enjoying the crispy January air. They had left the boat almost as soon as it had become light and walked along, enjoying the silence of an early morning stroll rather than feeling the need to talk. Despite the cold Sam felt relatively warm, given Dylan's insistence that she wear one of his jumpers over her own well-worn clothes. A jumper that she noted contained the scent of both her husband's aftershave and dog odour, the mixture of which she found strangely comforting.

Dylan had picked her the first snowdrop they found, but there had been clusters of them for their entire walk. It was after all, she thought to herself, the perfect time of year to look for snowdrops. She turned the little flower over in her fingers repeatedly, each time remembering another precious moment of her pregnancy and the short time they had shared with Olivia all that time ago.

Tomorrow she knew that she would need to sit down with her husband and talk about their future, whatever that very future may consist of. Before this weekend all she had wanted to do was to keep Dylan's heart with her, but she had exorcised many bad memories from her mind in the past few days and she now realised that all she truly wanted was for them to know where they both stood so they could move forward. After the connection they had regained that morning even she was unsure where that actually left them, but she knew that they would gain strength from each other, even if they decided that they would be better off apart. Inwardly, following the events of that morning, she did have renewed optimism that her marriage was not completely beyond repair, but she would accept any decision they made as long as they continued to be part of each other's lives in some form.

However thoughts like that were definitely for tomorrow and today was Olivia's special day. As Dylan returned to sit next to Sam on the bench, she ran her fingers through her bedraggled hair and met him with a smile. She moved over to lean on him and felt him instinctively move to accommodate her, bringing his arm round behind her and placing his hand on her side. As she looked down she could see their two pairs of feet, his in muddy shoes and hers in her now reclaimed favourite boots, along with Dervla's paws now placed on the ground next to Dylan where the dog had crashed out beside them.

Sam scrunched her eyes tightly and with that image still fresh in her mind, she saw that their feet were joined by those of a small little girl, standing in front of them with near identical boots to Sam's own.

"I love you Olivia," Sam whispered as quietly as she could manage, but she knew Dylan would have heard her regardless. She sat very still like that for a moment, not wanting to let go of the thought of their little girl being there with them today before murmurs in the wind carried the sound of a small child laughing to her ears and the tiny feet eventually ran away.

She forced herself to open her eyes, silently saying goodbye to her daughter and on looking up she saw that Dylan was removing a scrunched up piece of paper from his wallet. The paper itself was folded up tightly and as she watched him carefully smooth it out she recognised it for what it was and all it conveyed about their feelings for their own little snowdrop. She clutched tightly at the flower in her hand, before passing it over to him to hold and wiping away the tears that had started to fall from her eyes.

She knew that they would sit there for hours now, her, Dylan and Dervla; Olivia's family wanting to wish her happy birthday and to remember her very existence. Real life and all the decisions that needed to be made could wait till Monday, today was Olivia's day.

And as the piece of paper Dylan held fluttered in the cold January wind as they all remembered her now, just as they had then, Sam taking comfort from her husband's hand placed over hers and the white ribbon still tied around her wrist.

**Olivia Samantha Keogh – In memorial**

**Born sleeping on 29****th**** January 2008**

**A reading by her daddy**

**Little Snowdrop – Author Unknown**

The world may never notice if a snowdrop doesn't bloom,

Or even pause to wonder if the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms, or ever comes to be,

Touches the world in some small way for all eternity.

The little one we long for was swiftly here and gone,

But the love that was then planted is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty, our hearts know what to do.

Every beating of our hearts says that we love you.

**Olivia Samantha Keogh, our little snowdrop**

**Rest in peace angel**

**Mummy and Daddy love you very much**

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><p><strong>That last piece of poetry was the inspiration behind this story and I hope it touches your heart the way it always has mine.<strong>

**Thank you again to all my readers for their support and as ever, your reviews will be much appreciated.**

**I am hoping to have another multi-part fic up online for tomorrow morning, with the same intention to update daily (yes, I must be mad), so I look forward to speaking to you all again soon. **

**Thank you. Callie xxxx**


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